Friday, June 29, 2018

13th Sunday of Year (B) : Homily / Sermon

The little girl got up at once and began to walk about, for she was twelve years old. (Mark 5:42)

The Raising of Jairus daughter by Vasilij Dmitrievich Polenov

There is more than one account in the Gospels of Jesus apparently raising someone from the dead.

The most famous tale of course, and much the longest, is the story of the raising of Lazarus, the brother of Mary and of Martha in St John’s Gospel. We also hear of the raising of the adult son of the widow of a place called Nain, in a short account in St Luke’s Gospel. And today, in St Mark’s Gospel (and also Matthew and Luke) there is the story of the raising of the 12 year old daughter of Jairus.

To modern mind, these might appear fanciful stories - wonder-working on extra-ordinary scale. And as people may say to us “things like this just don’t happen”. And others may note as well, that there could be an ordinary medical explanation for these persons returning to life - after all, even in the present day, there are cases of people thought to be dead, yet who were in fact in some kind of coma.

But these interpretations, so ready to dismiss the Gospel, take little heed of what we are actually told.

First of all, the is no drama, no fireworks, no thunderbolt or voices from heaven. especially in this particular story. The onlookers, the family, are told to keep quiet, not to publicise what has happened

Secondly, the focus of the story is not so much on the person who had died and who returns to life, but upon the families, the bereaved. In Luke’s Gospel it is the distraught widow that Jesus appeals to. In John, we hear words of the sisters Martha and Mary, but not of Lazarus himself. And here today, we known the name of the girls father, Jairus, and his position in society, but no name or words from the girl herself.

And thirdly, the stories are not really miracle stories, but stories of faith, and comfort in distress, and trust in God. Before Jesus ever raises Lazarus, he weeps for him. While the Widow mourns her son, Jesus comforts and reassures here. And when messengers tell Jairus not to waste Jesus’ time with his sorrows, Jesus states plainly, in as many words: “You are not wasting my time. Let me come to your home.”

So this story, these stories, are not only about what happened then, but what they mean to us now. They present the message of comfort in our darkest hours, reassurance of the presence of Christ even when we may feel he is so far away, and knowledge of his compassion when we seems lost and alone.


Prayer of St Teresa of Avila

NewImage


Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing:
But God never changes.
Patience gains all things
With God you lack nothing;
All you need is God.

 

 

Friday, June 22, 2018

Birthday of St John the Baptist : Homily / Sermon

‘What will this child turn out to be?’ they wondered. And indeed the hand of the Lord was with him. (Luke 1:56)

Bartolomé Esteban Murillo
“The Infant Saint John with the Lamb” [Detail]In the novel Fatherland, the author Robert Harris tells a tale set in an imaginary 1960s Europe in which the Nazis rule victorious. In the background of the novel are arrangements being made for the celebration of Hitler’s 60th birthday: a national festival and celebration of all that is great (an ugly) of Nazi dominance, ruthlessness and cruelty. It is a celebration of the Leader, and the cult of his personality.

By contrast, in the Church’s calendar, when we remember and celebrate so many different persons, heroes of the faith, examples of human greatness, there are only three persons whose birthdays feature at all: those of Our Lord, Our Lady and St John the Baptist.

In fact, in the whole of scripture there is mention of only one birthday celebration, deep in the Old Testament that of Pharaoh, and the first Christians were generally against the celebration of birthdays, as they were seen to be too closely associated with the pagan world. They disliked them because they were celebrations, indulgences, of the self - usually just prerogatives of the rich and powerful, occasions to lavish gifts, honour and praise upon those who required it of others.
For them, and in many Christian cultures now, it is the feast day of the patron saint, the Name day, which is important, not the Birth Day. In the modern world our date of birth is an important piece of data that gives us our identity, but until relatively recently people may not even have known their exact date of birth. Saints' days are usually on the day of their death, their entry into heaven, so today's feast is almost unique.

So why does the Birthday of St John the Baptist have such an important place?

Well first, perhaps, because it is an important account in St Luke's Gospel. We have the story of Elizabeth and Zechariah, and the account in today's Gospel of his naming, and the loosing of Zechariah's tongue.

But more important than the Gospel account, is its significance. He is the one, after Our Lady, who first bears witness to Christ. While still in the womb, he leaps in worship of Our Lord. And later, at the banks of the Jordan, he recognises him, and says "Behold the Lamb of God, Behold him who takes away the sins of the world". He prepares a way for Christ, gathering followers who will become His apostles.

And at his birth, he breaks convention, giving voice to an old and holy man, his father, who had been dumbstruck, by the news of his conception, and taking a name, John, new to his family, so that he may announce a new age.

His birthday is not a celebration of John himself, as our Birthdays might be, as the birthday of Pharaoh was, and certainly as the the fictional birthday in Fatherland is, no, it is a celebration of what he has come to do. He points not to himself, to his own importance, to his own honour, but to the one who is to follow him.

There is nothing wrong with our own birthday celebrations, of course, but in all of them, we should celebrate not ourselves, our glory, our supposed greatness, but instead be thankful to the one who had made us, who had given us life, and to who we too should bear witness.

Saturday, June 09, 2018

10th Sunday of the Year (B) : Homily / Sermon

“Anyone who does the will of God, that person is my brother and sister and mother.’” (Mark 3:35)




When the new translation of the of mass appeared, some six years ago now, we were perhaps a little surprised by some of the words which appeared. “Consubstantial” for example. “Conciliation” is another. And yet another which we hear from time to time is “Coheirs”. We hear it said that we are “Coheirs with Christ”. 

It is an unfamiliar phrase, and an odd word. When we see it on the page, it may even seem difficult to pronounce. Coheirs is a word which may exist in the dictionary, but which I have to say I have never heard in conversation or even read anywhere else. 

However, it is a word which indicates to us something very important about our faith. 


An heir, of course, is someone who inherits, and more than just this,  is someone who inherits by right of who they are. Usually the Heir is the only one who inherits. It could be a title, or some status or rank, or property. We know the word best when we speak of the heir to the throne, or the heir to a title. And of course there can be only one king, only one Lord Grantham. Sometimes a kingdom may be split up between others - this happens in Shakespeare's King Lear. It happened also to the sons of King Herod the Great. (Notable because they are unusual). But the successors in each case don't share the one Kingdom, no, they are the sole heirs of the parts they do inherit. And when we speak of “heirs and successors” we generally mean not beneficiaries, but those of future generations. 


So “coheirs” are rare things, because heirs generally don't inherit together. So rare, that I can’t think of any actual example, even in history. That's why the word is so unfamiliar. 


Yet we hear that we are coheirs with Christ. What does it mean? And why would the translators wanted to have used such an unusual word? 


It is really about who Christ is, and what he does, and who we become. 

The idea comes from St Paul, “… we are co-heirs with Christ … we share in his sufferings so that we might share in his glory.” (Romans 8:20)


When God became man in Christ, what we call the Incarnation, he didn’t just appear amongst us, like a ghost or a spirit an angel or a hologram. As St John says, he dwelt amongst us. He shared our lives, Our tears, Our sufferings. 

He did not just speak a message to us, but he provided an example and model in his own life. 

He did not just tell us to care for the poor, but he became poor for our sake. 

He did not just sit at our bedsides to console us, but he took up his own bed on the ward. 

His is a way not of sympathy, but of empathy. 

He became one of us. 


The fathers of the early Church, the teachers of the Christian communities of the first centuries, put it this way: God became man, so that we might become God. 


So we are sons in the Son, and kings in the King. 

St Paul says “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). He says that in baptism we die with Christ so that we might also rise with him (Romans 6:4, Colossians 2:12)

When we receive his body and his blood, we become part of his life, his body 


We are coheirs with Christ. 

We are his brothers and his sisters and his mother. 

In faith, in hope, in love, we are one with him.